Black London 05 - Soul Trade

frowning.
    “Dexter’s not gonna be happy you’re poking about.”
    “Oh, don’t fret,” Pete said. “Like I told your husband, I have no authority. I’m just looking into one of the menwho went missing, and I’m very glad I was able to see how you’re all … aiding your children’s recovery.” The lie burned like acid. When this was over, when Crotherton’s demon was back in Hell and the Prometheans were off her back, it was going to be hard not to come back to Overton and put the fear of all the gods into the Smythes.
    “You should come to supper!” Norma exclaimed with a wide, sloppygrin that bespoke a handful of small white pills. “Mrs. Leroy hosts this big supper after every festival. Middle-class cunt that she is, tryin’ to show everyone up.” Norma pulled out a fag, patted her too-big blue blazer down for a lighter, and gave a defeated sigh. “Should give this up, anyway. Ain’t good for the kids, and those poor sick ones is so delicate. Not like my baby.”
    Personally, Petethought there wasn’t much that could put a dent in Diana, Bridget, or Patrick in their present condition. She’d seen a demon take a hit from a lorry and shake it off as if he’d collided with a shopping cart. That sort of demon, she knew how to handle. They were like Belial and his ilk. The Prince of Hell was at least rational, interested in making bargains with Pete and Jack that helped him leveragehis spot as one of the ruling Triumverate of Hell. Really, it was no worse than dealing with a shady lawyer, albeit one who had the power to incinerate most of London with a flick of his fingers.
    This, though—this demon was something other, and she had no idea what she was walking into. If playing nice with these deranged parents for a few more hours was what it took to learn more, then she couldbe nice.
    On the stage, the festival was breaking up. “That’s all for today,” Philip said. “Remember, you can come by the house—that’s 79 Exeter Court—between the hours of noon and four to book a private consultation, and we’ll do this all again in three days’ time.”
    The crowd dispersed in remarkably good humor for what they’d just witnessed, talking and laughing. A pair of sturdy-legged womenin hiking boots and shorts discussed where to go for lunch as they brushed past Pete.
    “Meg!” Norma bellowed. “Get your arse over here!”
    Before the girl could move through the crush of people, someone in the crowd pulled Norma aside, thrusting a handful of money at her and babbling about a private session.
    Pete jumped a bit when Margaret touched her arm. “I saw Mr. Crotherton,” she said, voicebarely above a wind’s whisper across the barren green. “Couple of weeks ago, he came by the house.” Her voice was slow and muddled, and Pete thought Margaret might actually be drugged. If she wasn’t possessed, that would be the easiest way to keep her docile.
    “You’re sure?” Pete bypassed shock and crouched so she could look at Margaret. She didn’t have to crouch as far as she’d had to four yearsbefore—Margaret had shot up several inches. If she survived this ordeal, she was going to be tall and pretty as an adult. “Did anything happen?”
    Margaret shrugged, a gesture as disaffected as Pete would have expected from a thirteen-year-old girl. “My dad sent him on his way. He hung about for a bit in the garden, waving some kind of compass about.”
    “Scrying,” Pete said, more to herself thanMargaret. Scrying for the demon, no doubt. Pete wished she could talk to Crotherton and ask him what he’d found.
    “Mum told me not to tell,” Margaret said. “But you’re a detective inspector, so I reckon it’s okay to tell you.”
    Pete didn’t correct her as she saw Norma start to elbow her powder blue bulk back through the crowd. “Margaret,” she said quickly. “I’m going to be honest with you—youdo know there’s something terribly wrong with all of this, yes?”
    Margaret’s large eyes unexpectedly filled, and she blinked rapidly. “Shit,” she said, swiping at her tears. “I hate it, Inspector. I…”
    “There’s my good girl!” Norma Smythe boomed, clutching her arm around Margaret and grasping her shoulder hard enough that the girl gasped. “Don’t she look lovely onstage, Miss Caldecott? She lovesthe attention.”
    Philip came gliding up, his sharkish grin firmly in place, even though the folds around his eyes said he wanted to give Pete a punch in the teeth.